Anywhere But In Between
by nubianamy
Summary: Glee needs Sam.  Puck nominates himself to get him back.  Puck/Sam.  Spoilers through 3.08 Hold On to Sixteen.
1. Chapter 1

_(Author's note: Thanks to Mynt Mint for cowriting the first chapter with me, and for story ideas! I've never attempted writing Sam before, so it should be interesting. The title comes from the song Rain King by Counting Crows. Enjoy! -amy)_

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><p><em>And I said mama, mama, mama, why am I so alone<em>  
><em>I can't go outside<em>  
><em>I'm scared I might not make it home<em>  
><em>I'm alive, I'm alive<em>  
><em>But I'm sinking in<em>  
><em>If there's anyone at home at your place, darling<em>  
><em>Why don't you invite me in?<em>

_- Counting Crows, "Rain King"_

There were definite advantages to being suspended. Well, if you were Noah Puckerman. Being suspended meant you didn't have to deal with school shit, like getting up in the morning or getting dressed. Being suspended meant you didn't have homework – or, at least, you could ignore the homework that Finn brought over to your house, like you were his fucking good deed of the day. As if the two of them had even been boy scouts since fourth grade.

Being suspended also meant you could volunteer to do crazy shit, like drive down to Kentucky to find Sam Evans to help your fucking Glee club win sectionals. Puck was totally down with doing crazy shit. When all you could think about was confusing stuff, like your daughter's crazy (though, yeah, hot) adoptive mother, getting out of town might be a good thing.

And then when your best friend said things like, "Hey, I'll drive with you," if you were Noah Puckerman, you could just say, "Fuck that, Hudson; I'm going solo." Because Hudson couldn't afford to miss a couple days of Spanish, even if he was pretty tight with the teacher – not if he wanted to graduate.

Puck didn't want to talk about the fact that _he _wasn't graduating. It didn't matter. Graduating was for pussies, anyway. No matter how good he was at math, not doing homework and not showing up to class for four years was going to fuck with your grades. Who the fuck needed a high school diploma, anyway? Not Noah fucking Puckerman.

Having this kind of shit to dwell on made the four hour drive down to Louisville completely annoying. Because he couldn't just relax and put the windows down and enjoy being free from fucking Lima for a few days. Because he couldn't turn off his brain for even four hours, even though he wasn't even in school. Because he couldn't get certain things out of his fucking head. Certain obnoxious douchebag things. Certain fucking _gay _things.

_That's right,_ he thought, stomping on the accelerator. _Wouldn't the rest of McKinley be thrilled to fucking death to learn that the biggest manwhore to ever pass through the doors of McKinley is a fucking faggot._ It's not like he woke up one day and had a sudden craving for dick. It had been an increasing fixation - a guilty pleasure that had been growing for years, taking root in his dreams and sprouting up into his everyday life, until it had matured into a full-fledged attribute. It didn't even bother him anymore to think of himself as gay – closeted, yeah, but it was cool. Not that he planned to come out anytime soon. No reason to. A history of doing the nasty with a lot of women (with a baby to prove it) meant that no one was going to confront him about any suspicions. And as long as he kept his browser history on the low, nothing would be too suss.

There was plenty to keep Puck's mind busy until long after he crossed the Ohio border to reach Louisville, the new hometown of Sam Evans. But it wasn't until he hit downtown that he realized it wasn't a home address, but a business address. And the type of business it probably was became increasingly more apparent. He crept through districts that got seedier and more low-brow as he went.

_A bar._ Puck shook his head in amusement. And Finn, in his ignorant glory, had apparently failed to realize what _kind_ of bar it really was. Judging by their snickers when Finn had announced it in Glee Club, Blaine and Kurt had figured out what it was. And they had reason to – because it was a gay bar and a strip club, all in one. What Trouty Mouth was doing working in one of those, Puck didn't know. And what the fuck was he doing, putting information like that on his fucking Facebook page? Only God knew. But for some reason, it made Puck feel a little giddy. He rolled his eyes at himself as he parked in the lot at Backstretch, noting the flashing rainbow lights advertising the club to onlookers.

The doors opened onto a thumping, brain-scrambling beat, along with the smells of sweat, alcohol and cologne – and an additional scent that Puck couldn't quite identify, but it was definitely in the realm of awesome. He followed his nose inside.

The club wasn't as large as the straight ones Puck had been sneaking into since he'd turned sixteen and acquired a fake id, but Puck guessed it was good enough for a gay bar. There was a stage, a dance floor, a pool table and some comfortable couches: all the mandatory furniture a club needed. Directly across from the door was the bar, with an impressive display of drinks lined up on mirrored shelves, labels facing out, each one with a different color and alcohol percentage. Puck walked up to the bartender, who was polishing shot glasses.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked, flashing a grin.

He was cute enough that Puck had to make an effort to stop himself from making a smartass comment about _make me one with everything, including you._ His main focus had to be finding Sam.

"I'll have a Coke," Puck replied, "And I'm looking for someone. Sam Evans – do you know where he is?"

"Sam?" The bartender chuckled, raising a playful eyebrow. "You have good taste. Third door to your left."

"...Thanks?" Puck was genuinely confused by the response he was given, but he headed for the door anyway. Clearly his brain had been addled by the sights and sounds of the club, because it wasn't until he opened the door and saw what lay beyond that he realized exactly what the fuck was going on.

_Holy shit_, he thought, taking it in. _Evans – you're in over your fucking head._

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><p>Sam, buzzing with success at another satisfied customer, stretched his legs all the way to his toes. The couch wasn't quite long enough for him, but it'd do for a rest before the next one. Counting the cash he'd earned, he grinned. Private dances were definitely the easiest way to make money.<p>

Sam wasn't exactly proud of his job, but he didn't mind reaping the benefits. And the benefits were plenty thanks to his assets. Namely, four: abs, ass, hair, and lips. Accentuate those with a skimpy pair of boxer briefs and it was a cash cow. He was a little ashamed of his current occupation, but then again the experience of it all did give him a little rush. The dancing, the stripping: the exposure. Plus, it was kind of a confidence booster – people throwing money because you look good and they want you to dance was like a compliment... kind of?

Sam grinned again, finishing his counting and staring down. _One hundred and fifty, and I'm still only down to my boxers._ At least he could fill his bank in secrecy. His parents thought he was employed at a conventional workplace, and no one from school or Glee Club knew about what he was up to.

Then the door opened quietly, and Sam popped his head up, concealing his money in his palm - and froze in utter shock.

"Well, well, well." It was Puck, grinning as though he had found buried treasure. His eyes burned holes into Sam.

Sam would have spoken to justify his current appearance – standing in boxer briefs, slightly sweaty from the stripping – but this was worse than the time he had spilled lemonade on his mint condition of Marvel Heroes Comics. He stared furiously at the floor, cheeks burning.

"What the fuck, Evans?" Puck said, wrinkling his brow. "Since when are you stripper material?"

"Since when are you hanging out in gay clubs?" Sam shot back.

"Since the fucking Glee club sent me south to find you." Puck didn't sound angry. He sounded amused. "Dude. Can't you think of a better way to make money than expose yourself to random guys?"

"Oh, like you're one to talk, pool cleaner and MILF banger extraordinaire?" Sam glared at Puck, then sighed. Finn or Kurt would have been just fine, but of course they had to send the hot badass to – _wait, what?_ He paused, confused. "Why does Glee need to find me?"

Puck rolled his eyes. "Because, thanks to the infinite wisdom of Mr. Schue, several of the choicest bits of New Directions have been sliced off to form the fucking TroubleTones. We're a little short on members, and we need you to fill in the gaps." He eyed Sam in an unflattering leer. "To be honest, I'd prefer you to Floppy-Haired Bass Dude."

"I'm sure," Sam said, avoiding making eye contact. "At least I have moves."

Puck shrugged, entirely nonchalant. "So, are you coming?"

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to clear his thoughts. On one hand, the offer was incredibly tempting. He really wanted to go back to McKinley – the second Puck made the offer, he felt a pang of desire for it in his gut. It had been one of the only places he had ever felt like he could be himself, leaving all the pretend Sams at home. On the other hand, no matter what he wanted, he couldn't leave his family. They were having a tough enough time as it was. He was needed, not just to make money, but as pseudo-caregiver to his siblings. Even though his family could benefit from having one less mouth to feed. _The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few… or the one._

"Dude," Sam heard, and glanced up from his thoughts to see Puck staring at him with an intense expression. "You really have to think about this?"

"I make a lot of money," he started, but Puck approached with one hand held up, shaking his head. Sam regarded the hand as though it might burn him, but Puck stopped short of touching his bare chest.

"Evans. Give me a fucking break. You're better than this." Puck's hand gestured at Sam's boxers, which weren't doing a fantastic job of hiding what this was. Sam flushed angrily.

"You going to find me another job where I can clear four hundred in one night?" He pointed at the door. "Those guys aren't bothering me. They just want to look. So yeah, I let them look. I've got something to look at."

Puck's lips pressed together as he regarded Sam. "So? You really don't care who sees you? It's just about the fucking money?"

Sam glared a challenge, hoping it looked convincing. "Yeah, it is."

Puck dug into his pocket and came up with a sizeable handful of cash. Then he was stalking right toward Sam, backing him up against the wall. He took the money and shoved it into Sam, right against his abs. Sam couldn't help it; he gasped. Puck's eyes were icy, but his touch burned Sam's skin.

"This should cover your take for the night," Puck said quietly. "Can we get out of here now? It's creeping me out."

Sam stared down at Puck's hand against his stomach, then back up at Puck's stony expression. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Puck's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "You telling me you can't just take this without dancing for it?" He backed up two steps and gestured at Sam's nearly naked body. "All right. Come on, dance. Let's see what you got."

"Fuck you," Sam said in a harsh whisper.

"No, I'm serious." Puck sure didn't look like he was joking. He looked like he meant some kind of business – the kind of business Sam had actually seen rather a lot of in the past few weeks. The kind that meant Sam's moves were translating into some movement in his spectator's pants. But – this wasn't Puck's thing._ Was it?_

"You want me to dance for you?" Sam said, and licked his lips uncertainly. Puck watched him do it – he really did. He watched Sam's tongue very closely. Sam almost wanted to do it again just to see if he would keep watching, but he didn't.

"You're so fucking sure this is worth it?" Puck gave a short laugh. "I want you to show me why these guys shove money down your shorts. Show me what you do. Then you can leave with a clean conscience." His eyes glittered. "Come on. Give me what you give those guys out there."

"You don't know what you're asking for," said Sam. He didn't know what to do with his hands; they seemed extraneous, as though he hadn't had them all along and now they were in the way. Finally he put them on his hips. Then he figured he looked like a bitchy queen, trying to make a point, and he dropped them back to his side with a frustrated sigh. "Seriously, Puck, you have no idea what I do."

"Oh, yeah, I think I know exactly what you fucking _do," _Puck snapped. "And if it really doesn't matter who you give it to, then come on. Give it to me. Show me how much it doesn't matter to you."

"Fine," Sam shouted, and he was gratified to see Puck step back. He wasn't entirely made of stone, even if he didn't really care. Even if this was just a fucking joke to him. He put out a hand and pressed play on the CD player, the one they used when they were rehearsing – as much as Sam or any of his coworkers did any kind of rehearsal. "I'll give you a dance. Get comfortable, Puckerman."

He took a few steps toward Puck, who sat down slowly in the chair by the door, looking a little uneasy. "You're serious."

"You bet your ass I'm serious," Sam said, as the music began. He twisted and writhed, as though this were just another dance, as though Puck were just another one of the many guys who passed through the club on any given night. As though he weren't looking at him like he was… like Puck wanted to…

Sam moved in, close enough for Puck to put out a hand and touch him. "Here's what they get," Sam said, feeling the heat building inside. Maybe it was just shame, but it sure felt good. He rotated his hips, giving Puck the show he knew got guys hot. The guys who liked looking at guys, anyway.

Puck's eyes were riveted to Sam's navel. He had the most perplexed expression on his face, Sam almost wanted to laugh. "You surprised, Puck?" he said. "This not what you bargained for?"

"I've seen it, Evans." Puck's jaw tightened stubbornly. He wasn't going to give in. He wasn't going to tell Sam to stop. "Whatever you've got to dish out, believe me, I've seen it."

"You've never seen _this,"_ Sam said, running his hands down his thighs, outlining this with his hands before closing in on Puck. This was the point at which he usually had to instruct his clients to keep their hands to themselves, but Puck's hands were clenched on the arms of the chair, not going anywhere. Sam put his hands behind his head and gave it his best grind. A noise came out of Puck's mouth that sounded like a steam train.

"I've got one, too, remember?" he said, but his tone was hoarse. Sam was close enough now to see that Puck did have one, and that it was crowding his ripped jeans like nobody's business. _Noah Puckerman has a hard-on for me,_ he thought, in disbelief.

He lowered himself onto Puck's lap, grinding into his chest. Puck flinched away from Sam's frankly dirty moves, but Sam had done enough of this now to know exactly what the guys wanted, exactly what would get them off quickly, so he could move on to his next client.

_But this is your last one,_ Sam realized, and he knew he was going to say yes. The money didn't matter. He wanted to go home.

"I'm giving it to you, Puck," Sam said. Puck took an angry breath. Sam grinned in triumph, bucking his hips against Puck's pecs. He remembered Puck's nipple ring, and put out a hand to see if he could find it –

"Dude," Puck said, almost in a panic, and Sam stopped. He stood up slowly and backed away, watching Puck's horrified, confused expression.

"You said you wanted it," Sam explained, as calmly as he could. "You said –"

"I know what I fucking said," Puck replied through clenched teeth. "Fucking A."

_He liked it,_ Sam realized, and it made him flush with satisfaction. He liked that he'd gotten under Puck's skin. He shrugged, turning away, wondering if Puck was looking at his ass.

Then Puck was right there, standing behind him, hands on Sam's shoulders, spinning him around to glare at him, inches from his face. Sam took a surprised breath and jerked back.

"What the hell was that for?" Puck hissed, leaning in, like he wanted – like he was going to –

"You're not supposed to touch me," Sam blurted, blinking.

Puck glanced down, and yeah, he was hard, and truth be told, he wasn't the only one. Sam could feel the heated air between them, brushing his skin like a caress. Puck took another step in, his knee moving right between Sam's legs, like they were on the dance floor together and he was going to grind with him.

"What makes you so sure I want to touch you?" he whispered.

Sam backed up another step, but there wasn't much room left behind him, and it wasn't enough to clear Puck's personal space. "You – you are touching me."

"Oh, believe me, Evans," Puck breathed, bringing his face right up against Sam's neck. Sam heard himself whimper. "If I were touching you, you'd know it."

Sam's brain wasn't thinking all that clearly at that moment, but he was pretty sure he could feel the pressure of Puck's leg against the inside of his thigh, and he thought that was Puck's hand on the small of his back, pulling their hips together with spectacular friction. He was absolutely sure he wasn't supposed to let any of his customers touch his ass like that.

"Puck," he said, his voice coming out in a squeak. "What are you doing?"

"Come on," Puck purred. Sam could feel his breath, hot and moist, on his cheek. "You can't tell me you've never done this before. You're way too good at this."

Sam felt his brow wrinkle in incredulity. "I've never done this for money," he said, and gave an involuntary groan in response to Puck, grinding right up against his -

Then Puck stepped away, as quickly as he'd closed with him, and stared right into Sam's eyes. Puck's eyes were a surprising shade of brown, with a dash of green.

"I'm fucking glad to hear _that,"_ he said, very clearly, and tapped Sam on the shoulder with two fingers. "And you're not doing it for money now, either."

Sam looked down at his hand, which was still holding the wad of cash Puck had shoved at him five minutes earlier. It felt like hours had passed since then. With deliberate movements, Sam pulled the hem of his boxers out just far enough to wedge the money inside. Puck watched him do it, his eyes bulging as Sam's fingers slipped into his shorts. He exhaled, then glared at Sam.

"Not fair," he muttered cryptically. Then he cleared his throat. "Fine. You feel better now, you worked for your take? So are you coming back with me or not?"

Sam felt his breathing returning to normal. It wasn't so different from the high he got from stripping – except he didn't usually have the guy he danced for waiting around to take him home. The idea made him inexplicably light-headed.

"Let me talk to my parents about it first," he said.

Puck looked at him oddly, muttering something that sound like "pussy." "Hurry up, then, and maybe we can make the Ohio border before midnight." He turned for the door.

Sam stared at him. "I can't just leave - I'm working! What if I get fired?"

"You don't need this job," Puck said. "Seriously. Come on, Evans, get the lead out. I'm not leaving without you."

Sam was suddenly seized by a strange sense of panic, as though Puck really were going to take off without him – and the bitter disappointment he felt at that thought was even stranger. He dashed around the room, collecting all his things, slipping on his tank top and jeans, slipped on his too-big shoes with the socks pushed into the toes, and followed Puck's vanishing figure out of the back room. He tried to ignore his boss' confused, angry look as he sprinted past him and caught up with Puck, slowing down to a walk.

Puck gave him a grudging smile. "That was quick."

"They usually are," Sam quipped.

Puck unlocked the passenger door and opened it for Sam to climb inside. "Don't tell me you walk to work in your stripper clothes."

"No, dumbass. I carpool." He made a pile of his stuff on the floor of Puck's truck and propped his foot on the dashboard, tying his shoe. "Besides, no one actually knows I work here."

"'No one' apparently can't read a Facebook page," Puck muttered into the steering wheel. He gunned the accelerator and carelessly shot out of the Backstretch parking lot, the ferocious speed causing Sam to cling to the edge of the seat in a death grip.

"Left! Right! Straight!" Sam cried. "For god's sake - do you know a thing called the speed limit?" With every turn, the truck gave an obligatory swerve. It was only minutes later that they halted abruptly in front of the Evans household, Puck churning the handbrake back in pride.

"Bet that was record time," he said with satisfaction, unbuckling his seatbelt. Sam, on the other hand, was on the verge of hyperventilation. He was pretty sure he was an unpleasant shade of green. He regarded Puck with a sinking stomach. _This is going to be one hell of a ride home._


	2. Chapter 2

_(Author's note: it's been a while since I thought about this story, but I was inspired to keep working on it. Thanks to all of you who like this pairing. It's my first time writing Sam. Enjoy! -amy)_

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><p>Sam could hear the muted sounds of his family's conversation as they climbed the stairs to the apartment. Stacey opened the door before he could even wrestle his keys out of his bag.<p>

"What are you still doing up?" he asked her, though he knew the answer.

"It's Thursday," Stacey said. "Project Runway. Who're you?"

"I'm Puck," he said, waving. "I remember when you came to Glee club and sang with us. You got taller. Don't you have a brother? I mean, besides Sam?"

"Stevie doesn't like Project Runway," she confided, pushing the door closed behind them. "He's playing Spot It with Grandpa." She looked at Puck's bag with interest. "Are you coming to sleep over tonight? 'Cause Grandma don't have too many beds left."

Sam's mind fluttered back to the embarrassing hate-dance he'd given Puck at the club, and he hoped he wasn't blushing too terribly as he gave him an apologetic shrug. "It's a little crowded here since we all came to stay. But my mom and dad are both working, and pretty soon we'll be able to afford a mortgage..." He realized he was babbling, and he closed his mouth as they entered the kitchen.

"Ah, Sam's home," a grainy voice announced. "And he's brought a friend." A set of brown eyes gazed at Puck behind a pair of reading glasses. "Evening, son. Name's Dwight." He put down his newspaper and held out a withered hand for Puck to shake. Stevie set down his cards and stared up at Puck.

"Puckerman." Puck shook hands quickly, withdrawing his back into the pocket of his leather jacket.

"Sam, honey, why are you home at this time? Did the Dairy Queen let you finish early?" Sam's mother bustled out from a corridor, stopping with an abrupt smile when she saw Puck, Stacey close behind. "Hello, dear, my name's Mary." She held out a hand, which Puck awkwardly shook.

"Puckerman," he repeated.

"Anyway," Sam cleared his throat loudly, gaining undivided attention from everyone in the room. "Puck is... a friend from Ohio. They need me to go back for Glee club." Sam tried to speak convincingly, but he just sounded rushed. He'd practiced in the car, but the disoriented drive hadn't been much help.

"Back to Ohio? For Glee club?" His mother glanced back and forth between Puck and Sam with concern. "What's going on here, Sammy?"

"If we don't have enough singers, we can't go to Regionals," Puck explained. "Sam was kind of our key dude, and when he left, we lost a big advantage. Now we might not be able to compete at all. I came down on behalf of Glee club to ask Sam to help us out."

"Please? I-I really want to. I want to help," he added at his family's expressions. There was an awkward pause, before his mother spoke.

"Sam, honey... this sounds complicated. I mean, first of all, where would you stay?"

Sam knew what his mom was trying to do - she was going to list all the logical reasons it wouldn't work until she wore him down. Which meant she wasn't sure if she could stop him or not. He opened his mouth to reply, but Puck's voice surprised him first.

"He can stay with my family." Sam thought he spotted a mischievous glint in Puck's eye, but he couldn't be sure, and his face was sober and earnest. "It's no big. We have an extra bed."

Puck shrugged at the disbelieving stare from Sam. Mary must have noticed it, as she turned to Puck with a very polite smile.

"Puck, do you mind if we talk in private for a moment?" she said. "Stevie, show Puck where the television is, and get him a soda."

"Yes ma'am," Steve said, scrambling up from the table. "You want to play Spot It?"

"You'll have to teach me," he said. He placed his hands in his pockets and followed Stevie out of the room without a backward glance.

With Puck gone Mary turned back to Sam, her eyes flashing. "Sam, is this really what you want?"

"Yes, ma'am. I want it. I mean, I want to go back to Glee club." Sam pursed his lips at the realization of what he had almost said, and pushed through it with determination. "I miss it, and they need me."

"Mary, he's trying to take responsibility," said his grandfather. "You know Ephraim would say the same if he were here. I don't see any harm in him going back for a little while. You know that this dang school ain't teaching him anything he don't already know."

Sam turned to his mom. "If it's the money, Mom, I can get a job up in Lima, too. It might not be as much as I can make here, but -"

"No, no... it's not." He saw the tear in her eye, but she dashed it away before it could fall. "Sammy, you should go."

"Really?" Sam breathed, wondering if he had heard wrong.

"You helped your family through so much, and you're just a teenager," she said proudly. Sam felt a wash of love as she moved forward to move a lock of hair away from his face, admiring the person underneath. "You deserve this."

"I'll call every night," he swore, hugging her tightly, "and I promise, I won't do anything stupid. I won't let you down."

He ducked his head into the family room, where Stevie was frowning with concentration at the circular cards. Puck was clearly losing, but Sam couldn't tell if it was intentional or just because he was bad at the game. Sam joined them on the floor, settling himself cross-legged beside both of them.

"Clock," he said, pointing at the card in the center. Puck gave him a wounded look.

"Dude, I'm getting crushed here," he said, as Stevie gleefully collected the card.

"You really want me to tell everybody on Facebook that Puckerman needed help beating my seven-year-old brother?"

"Why not," Puck muttered. "You tell everybody everything else on Facebook. Skull." He snatched the card away from the stack. "Fucking A."

"You can't say that word," Stevie whispered, aghast. Puck had the courtesy to look embarrassed.

"Sorry, man. My little sister's heard it all. I forget sometimes."

"It's okay," Stevie said, patting his knee concilatorially. "I've heard it all too. I just don't want you to get in trouble with Grandpa. He's pretty strict."

Puck grinned widely, his eyes sparkling. "I'll keep it mind, but I don't think I'll be around long enough for your grandpa to give me a spanking."

Sam laughed out loud at that one. "Uh, Stevie, I wanted to tell you... you can have the guest bed, if you want. I won't be around for a while."

Puck's grin turned to surprise. "They - you can go?"

Sam couldn't help smiling back, even though he knew it made his mouth look freakishly huge. He just felt so damned happy. "Yeah. I can go."

"Where are you goin', Sammy?" Stevie said, the game forgotten. He clambered across the pile of cards into Sam's lap.

"I have to go back to Lima. My friends in Glee, they need me to sing, or else they don't get to do their competition." He looked sternly down at Stevie. "You know what this means, don't you? It means you're man of the house, when Dad's at work. You're gonna have to make sure Stacey takes her medicine and brushes her teeth and goes to bed before Letterman. Understand?"

"I understand," Stevie said, his eyes wide. "Are you going to come back?"

"He will," said Puck. "I'll drive him back myself, any time he wants to come visit."

Stevie hugged Sam tight, an unusual display of affection for his brother, and Sam felt the prickle of tears behind his eyes. "I'll be back as soon as we win Regionals."

"Hey, you think we're going to let you go before we take Nationals?" said Puck, standing and stretching. "No freaking way."

It took Sam less than ten minutes to pack everything he owned into two duffel bags. Puck loaded them into the back of his truck, along with Sam's guitar. There was an awkward moment between them as he slammed the door. Puck stared at Sam in the light of the streetlamp, his feet scuffing in the gravel.

"You sure this is okay?" Puck asked. His voice sounded low and uncertain.

Sam reached out and took his arm, squeezing it. He could feel Puck's muscles flexing under his fingers, and he heard him take a quick little breath.

"I want to help," Sam said. "You guys in Glee were so awesome to me and my family, and you're all kind of like my family now, too. I miss you. You guys. I miss everyone."

For a minute Sam thought he'd said the wrong thing, but then Puck nodded.

"That's good, man," he said. "We missed you, too."

Sam went back in to give everybody one last hug, and his mom promised she'd explain and make everything okay with his dad when he got home from work. Stacey cried a little, but Sam knew it was mostly because it was after eleven, and everything was so much worse after eleven o'clock when you were four.

"Call when you get there," his mom said, pressing a handful of wadded bills into his hand. "And don't drive too late. Get a motel."

For some reason this made Sam cry when nothing else that night had. He kissed her. "I'll mail you the last paycheck when they deposit it."

She shook her head, smiling. "Keep it, baby. Give to Puck's family, or to Puck for gas money. We'll get along."

He knew they would, but it was still hard to hear, and he climbed into the cab of the truck with a heavy heart.

"My mom gave us money for a motel," said Sam. "And I can drive if you get too tired."

"Hey, it's only four hours," Puck said, gunning the engine. "If you don't mind me singing eighties metal the whole way home, I'll be fine."

Sam grinned at that. "Let me mix in a little Beiber and One Direction, and it's all good."

They sounded fucking awesome together, of course, and by running through the radio stations they found plenty of music they both knew.

youtube watch?v=U3sMjm9Eloo

_Life's like a road that you travel on_  
><em>When there's one day here and the next day gone<em>  
><em>Sometimes you bend, sometimes you stand<em>  
><em>Sometimes you turn your back to the wind<em>

_There's a world outside ev'ry darkened door_  
><em>Where blues won't haunt you anymore<em>  
><em>Where brave are free and lovers soar<em>  
><em>Come ride with me to the distant shore<em>

_We won't hesitate_  
><em>To break down the garden gate<em>  
><em>There's not much time left today<em>

_Life is a highway_  
><em>I wanna ride it all night long<em>  
><em>If you're going my way<em>  
><em>I wanna drive it all night long<em>

It made Sam feel joyous inside to hear Puck singing the harmony while he belted out the high notes, in a way he'd never quite felt with the church choir. He leaned back in his seat, propping his feet up on the dash, and breathed in the freedom he hadn't felt since they'd left Lima.

They made it as far as Dayton before Puck's tires started wandering over onto the rumble strips. "Fuck, man," he yawned. "I'm bushed. You up for a turn?"

"Nah, I'm falling asleep myself." Sam pointed at the Red Roof sign towering above the highway. "Come on. My mom's treat, and it'll have breakfast. We can get up early and still make it back in time for Friday morning classes."

The motel was a little seedy, but it was better than sleeping in the back of the truck as far as Sam was concerned. Puck dumped his bag on the orange burlap-covered chair by the window, and flopped onto the bed, one arm flung over his eyes. "You go first in the bathroom."

He must have been really tired, because it didn't even occur to either of them that there was only one bed until he came out of the bathroom in boxers and t-shirt. Puck was already under the covers, a pillow over his head. Sam hesitated only a moment before shutting off the light and climbing in on the other side. It's not like he's never seen you naked before, in football and everything. Not to mention earlier that night.

Sam tried not to think about that.

"Your little brother," said Puck, startling Sam.

"Dude, I thought you were asleep." Sam turned to face Puck, who emerged from under the pillow. "Yeah, Stevie."

"You're really good with him. I mean, he seems to trust you."

"I love him," Sam said. "With my dad working nights and my mom taking extra shifts, he's been depending on me more. My sister's tougher, but Stevie, he's kind of sensitive. Not that he'd ever admit to it. He gets into a lot of fights at school."

Puck nodded. "It took a lot for you to leave them tonight. I just want you to know I could tell. I was serious about what I said, okay? I'll bring you down whenever you want. My sister's a little older than Stevie; maybe she could come along."

Sam wasn't sure what to say. "Thanks," he said eventually.

Sam was used to sleeping in a bed with his siblings, so later in the night when he felt the warmth of Puck's body beside his, he didn't do more than move over a little to give him more room. But then he felt Puck's hand tuck inside his boxers and cup his balls in his hand, and he woke up in a hurry.

"Puck," he whispered.

"Shhh," Puck said. His fingers gripped Sam's cock loosely, squeezing, and Sam gave an involuntary grunt.

Puck rolled in a little closer, and Sam realized several things all at once. One was that Puck wasn't wearing anything. Another was that Puck was rock-hard and leaking and rubbing slow, rhythmic pushes against his thigh. The third and most surprising was that the thing that was turning him on most was the whispered _shhh_ in his ear.

"Puck, I'm not gay," he said.

Puck's lips grazed the skin behind his ear, and Sam whimpered. "So what? It feels good. Just... let me make you feel good."

"Puck..." Sam said again, but it came out more like a moan.

"Tell me you don't want it, and I'll stop."

The word _stop_ was just as compelling as the word _shhh_, the sibilant _s_ and the plosive _p_ touching him in places he hadn't really ever considered wanting to be touched. Puck's hand was still moving, slowly, almost too slowly to feel good, and Sam thrust forward into his fist. Puck chuckled quietly.

"God, you were so fucking on tonight," he went on, his breath hot and wet against Sam's neck. Sam felt Puck's bicep curl under his head, like a pillow stuffed with warm rice. Puck picked up the pace, stroking him more firmly at the same time he nudged harder against Sam's leg. "I've seen lots of guys dance, but nobody's ever turned me on like you did."

"Really?" Sam asked. He would definitely have been mortified by the desperate neediness in his own voice, if he hadn't been so overwhelmed by Puck's words, Puck's hands, Puck's cock on his fucking thigh.

"Totally. Even if you hadn't agreed to come back to Lima, that would have... _fuck._.. been worth the drive." Puck's words were becoming more erratic, and Sam's head swam as Puck's teeth grazed his neck. Sam whimpered at the sensation of Puck's thumb brushing the head of his swollen cock.

"I didn't even know you liked guys," he said, and what a stupid thing was that to say? He could say, _I wanted you to touch me,_ or, _you really turned me on too,_ or even _do that thing again with your thumb._ But Puck just sighed, getting up on one knee to hump Sam's hip.

"Yeah, well, it's not something you advertise in Ohio. Sam, can I come on you?"

"What?" he blurted.

Puc lifted himself up, kneeling over Sam, stroking them both in tandem. "I'm gonna come, and can I come on you, yes or no, man, whatever, just tell me quick."

"Uh - fuck, yeah, please?" Sam really couldn't believe he was saying it, but even as he did, he beat Puck to it, giving one final thrust up into Puck's slick hand, coating himself with his own come. Puck finished almost silently, but his body shuddered and shook, and he clutched at Sam's shoulders like he needed something to hold him up. Sam didn't even care about the mess, he just pulled him down on top of him, making room for him between his trembling thighs.

"Hey," he said softly. "That... uh. What was that?"

"I told you, man," said Puck, and took a long, slow, satisfied breath. "It felt good, didn't it?"

"Well, yeah." Sam had to laugh a little. "Kind of surprising, though."

"Good surprising?"

Sam cracked a huge yawn in reply, and Puck laughed. "Forget it. Just go to sleep. We have to be on the road in four hours."

There was plenty of space in the bed, but Puck moved over to one side and hooked an arm around Sam, hauling him out of the wet spot. That put Sam right up against Puck again. He draped an arm over Puck's chest and felt the sticky stuff left behind. Puck just made me come, he thought.

Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to feel bad about it at all.


	3. Chapter 3

_(Author's note: it's been almost a year since I worked on this story, but I got inspired. We'll see if any more of it is forthcoming anytime soon. Warnings for boys fooling around and surprise feelings. Enjoy - amy)_

* * *

><p>They pulled into Puck's gravel driveway a little before six, the sun still securely below the horizon, but the sky was hazy in the light of dawn. Puck was glad Sam had let him drive the rest of the way, considering how Sam had reacted to his driving last night. The truth was, he was a little too wired on adrenaline to sleep anyway. He managed just fine on a couple hours of sleep, as long as he didn't have to do it more than a couple nights in a row.<p>

It wasn't what had happened last night that was getting to him. _That_ had been hot, and maybe a little impulsive, but Puck had done it before with other straight guys, and they usually went along with it as long as there was something in it for them. He and Sam had never been best buds, but Puck had always suspected Sam might lean both ways, given the opportunity, and it looked like he'd been right. And now Puck had motivation to create _opportunities._

Sam staying in his extra bed, for example. That would no doubt provide the two of them with some ideal naked horizontal time together. He grinned to himself, getting a little thrill from the idea of a convenient, hot body, right there in his own bedroom. _And no one need be the wiser._

"My Ma'll be up for work soon," he said quietly, setting his bag down on the floor by the kitchen. "You can throw your stuff in my room, end of the hall. You want some breakfast?"

Sam grimaced. "That McDonald's coffee at 4 am didn't set so well with me. I think I'd better pass. I can hold off until lunch."

He nodded. "Cool. Well, unless you were hoping to get more sleep, we should head out. The quicker we get out of the house, the less likely we are to run into -"

"Noah," Puck heard from down the hall. He winced. _Shit._ He raised his voice to be heard around the corner.

"Yeah, Ma."

"What the hell do you think you're doing out there, making all that noise at six fucking o'clock?" She frowned at the two of them from her doorway, and caught sight of Sam. "Who's this? I told you not to bring your guys into my house, Noah. I won't have any of that homo bullshit around Sarah."

"Calm down, Ma." Puck took Sam's arm and guided him away from his Ma's glare. "This is Sam. He's a friend from Glee. He just needs a place to stay for a little while, okay?"

"Ma'am," Sam said, and even mustered a polite nod, almost like a bow.

"Don't think you boys'll be drinking in my house," she snapped. "I know what you get up to when no adults are around."

"Whatever, Ma. We're going to school now. We'll be back tonight."

Sam didn't look scared by the confrontation, which was good, but Puck still felt a rush of embarrassment to have somebody else witness just what his Ma could be like. He avoided Sam's eyes, not wanting to see the pity or derision he was sure would be waiting there. Sam said nothing, but he went with Puck back out to his truck and climbed into the cab.

"Sorry about that, man," Sam said quietly. "I didn't mean to get you in trouble with your mom."

"Hey, no. I mean, she's kind of always like that. I expected it. Should've warned you." Puck let the engine rev a little, scowling. He sighed. "Not much like your family, huh."

"Not much," Sam agreed. "But it's not really any of my business. I'm just glad you're giving me a place to crash. I can stay out of her way."

Puck nodded. Sam's kindness was almost harder to bear than insults. "That'd probably be for the best. You just tell me if she gets on your case, okay? I don't put up with that shit from her, and neither should you."

Sam watched him as he accelerated around the corner, maybe a little too fast, but whatever. "I'm sorry you have to deal with that from your own mom."

"She's a pretty sucky mom. I mean, hey, it's nothing new." He shrugged, trying to make it seem like no big deal, but Puck could tell by the way Sam was looking at him that he wasn't buying it. It made him nervous. "Glee's a better family anyway."

He thought that would cheer up Sam, but he still looked troubled. Puck reached out a hand and poked him on the thigh, making Sam startle. "What?"

"You know, everybody missed you." Puck didn't mean the words to come out so angry. He felt his cheeks flush, and focused on the road.

"Yeah?" Sam said softly.

Puck frowned at the dashboard. "Yeah, well... you're a hell of a singer." He flicked his eyes at Sam, watching him notice it. _Fuck._ He shifted in his seat. Arriving at school with a hard-on was a stupid way to start the day.

"You missed me?"

"Sam," he growled, and Sam's grin widened. Puck rolled his eyes.

"You know I missed everybody, too. It sucked to have to leave like that."

Puck nodded. "Believe me, I get it. Being in juvie, that was a wake-up call. I missed my sister, but all you guys... something about the way we all, you know. Depend on each other?"

The words that were coming out of his mouth sounded so cheesy, Puck would have expected to be teased for them by anybody else - but not from Sam. He was nodding seriously. "Exactly. That's the family thing."

Puck pulled into the parking spot closest to the football field, shifting it into first and putting the parking brake on before turning his truck off and leaning back in his seat.

"You left your own family to come back north to deal with this one," he said. "That sure says something about the kind of guy you are."

Sam let out a slow sigh. "Yeah, well... I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

"Hey. No." Puck touched Sam's shoulder. This time, when Sam looked at him, he looked back. He was pretty sure that meant Sam was going to see something of the way he was feeling, but this was more important. Sam had to know he meant it. "It's a good thing."

Sam stared at him for a moment, and then he nodded. "All right."

Puck had no idea if that _all right_ meant Sam trusted him, or if Sam was just playing the part of someone who did, but either way, he'd accept it.

The first person to see Sam and do a double-take was Artie. "Sam!" he shouted, wheeling toward them down the hall with a big smile. Sam paused, glancing nervously at Puck, but he smiled back.

"Hey," he said, and slapped Artie's offered hand. Artie looked up at him with a quizzical expression.

"What's going on? Finn said something about you going down to Kentucky to get Sam, but I thought he was joking."

"No joke," said Puck. "Took a road trip and found this loser working for peanuts in a total dive. Told him to get his ass back to McKinley, yo. Glee club needed him."

"Yeah!" Artie grinned. "Wow, you really came back to Lima for us?"

"Really did." Sam looked a little pink. "Now we're that much closer to winning Nationals."

The rest of Glee descended on him a few at a time as the word spread through the halls, laughing and hugging Sam. Finn looked somewhat stunned that he'd actually gone to get him, which made Puck a little annoyed.

"I said I would," he said. "You didn't believe me?"

"Well, it's a long drive." Finn shrugged, watching his face. "Just... I would have gone with you."

"We managed," was all Puck said in reply.

He was glad, watching Sam talk to Brittany and Tina and Kurt, but it was a little charged with strangeness, the new awareness between them. Sam's hands were describing something as he talked with Mike across the room, and all Puck could see was Sam underneath him in the hotel room bed, saying _fuck, yeah, please_ just before he came first.

Puck ended up ditching Glee and hiding out under the bleachers, smoking a joint and ignoring everyone who came by looking to bum a hit. He could hear them, shuffling by, waiting for him to offer to share, because he usually did. Not today.

"Get your own fucking junk," he muttered without turning around.

"I don't smoke pot," said Quinn's low alto. "But neither do you, except when you're freaking out about something."

She sat down beside him. Her hair was blonde again, but her attitude still said _skank,_ which was oddly comforting. Puck grimaced, staring at the remains of his joint, and shrugged. "I guess."

"Yeah, I know you, Puck. You can talk, or not talk, but I can see it, even when you're not under the bleachers." She gave him an encouraging smile. "Is it about Sam coming back?"

"I'm the one who fucking went to get him," he snapped.

"Okay, but sometimes when we get something, it's not exactly what we expected. Now Sam's back in the spotlight."

"Dude, Sam's a good singer. I don't care how many solos he gets."

"That's not what I meant," said Quinn. She leaned her chin on her knee, watching him.

"Then what? Stop trying to be cryptic." He sneered at her. "You suck at it."

"I'm _saying,_ everybody was paying attention to Sam."

"So?"

"And he wasn't paying attention to you."

Puck opened his mouth to answer, and stuck the joint in, taking one last drag before ditching it in the dirt, stamping it out with the toe of his boot. "I'm fucking out of here."

But he went back to Glee, because Sam was staying at his house, and even though Puck wasn't at all sure he'd be there, he was, waiting in the middle of the empty choir room. He stood up when Puck arrived, his face brightening like somebody had brought him a cookie. _Fuck._

"You want a ride?" Puck asked.

While Puck drove home, Sam told him all about the paperwork he'd had to complete in order to be reinstated as a student, even though he'd been a student at McKinley just a couple months before. Puck was mostly silent as he took the corners at his usual velocity, watching Sam clutching the seat with each acceleration. He parked the truck in his driveway and led Sam into the house, dumping his backpack on the floor by the couch.

"My sister'll be home in about an hour," he said, "but we're the only ones here until then. You want to fool around?"

Sam's stride stopped abruptly, and he stopped beside Puck's kitchen table. "Uh."

"That's a yes or a no, Evans. If you have to think about it, I'd say that's a no."

"No, I'm just - I didn't think - " Sam took a breath. "Yes. It's a yes."

"Cool." Puck tried to keep his voice calm. "My room?"

It was _their_ room, which was a little strange to think about, but Sam's presence was distracting enough that he could ignore the other bed across the room and pull Sam down on his, palming the crotch of his jeans.

Sam wasn't hard yet, but Puck was pretty sure he could solve that. He'd been half-hard all day, watching Sam's hands and mouth and thinking about that second bed, about what it would be like when they went to bed in the room together after getting each other off.

"You want to fuck me?" Puck asked. He felt Sam's motion still, his hands on Puck's ribs under his t-shirt.

"I don't think I'm up for that," Sam said, sounding regretful. "Sorry."

"Hey, no big. I can take no. You can set the pace." Puck lifted his shirt off and tossed it on the floor, watching Sam's eyes traveling over his pecs. He knew flexing for Sam was kind of like bragging to the reigning Mario champion about his high score, but he did it anyway. "You like what you see?"

"I - yes?" Sam touched his throat, his collarbone, tentative and slow, and seeing that uncertainty was unexpectedly hot. He moved his fingers to Puck's nipple ring, just for a moment, then away, brushing his abs, relaxing his shoulders with a sigh. "I've never done this before. With a guy."

"Not so bad, huh?" Puck unbuckled his belt and slid his jeans down, stepping out of them and kneeling over Sam on the bed. Sam licked his lips as Puck reached into his underwear, giving himself a squeeze. He put a hand over Puck's, stopping him.

"Okay, can I do that this time?"

Puck took his hands off, holding them open. "Be my guest."

Sam's hands were great, he wasn't going to complain about his hands, but there was only so much Puck could do with Sam there on that bed without looking at his mouth, and _fuck_, Sam's lips were wet and parted and he kept running his tongue back and forth across the top one. He was like a fucking poster child for cocksucking.

"You okay with kissing?" Puck asked. He really hadn't meant to, but he needed to do_ something_ with Sam's mouth, and the worst Sam could do would be to say no, right?

But Sam said, "Yeah, kissing is cool," and before Puck knew it, he was wrapping his arms around Puck, pulling him down on top of him, his tongue going for some serious action. Puck wasn't going to try to hold out at this rate, but he was pretty sure Sam wasn't either, the way he was beating off against Puck's hip. He turned his mouth, their cheeks rubbing together, breathing into Puck's ear. "This is really okay?"

"This is fucking awesome," Puck told him, and reveled in Sam's groan.

"Girls never want to do this."

"You've been going for the wrong girls." Puck tried that kissing again, the way Sam had done it, fucking his mouth with his tongue. "Yeah, god, that's hot, fuck. Can I suck you?"

"You - you want to?" Sam looked abruptly scared again, like he might call things off, but Puck sucked on his earlobe and bit his neck and licked all the way up his chin until Sam was a shuddering mass underneath him. "Yeah, suck me."

Puck tried to focus on just the head, on making it good for Sam, but like usual he got distracted halfway through, exploring the rest of the guy's cock with his tongue, wondering what Sam would do if he tried fingering him. Just thinking about it was enough to make him get his own hand wrapped around his dick again, jerking himself quickly. Sam made a low groan, and suddenly his hand was on Puck's head, pushing him away.

"What? What's wrong?" Puck looked up at Sam, struggling with the amount of saliva his mouth was suddenly producing. He wanted to get back to what he was doing.

"You're gonna make me come in your mouth," Sam said, looking apologetic again. Puck raised an eyebrow at him.

"Kind of the idea, yeah? You don't like it?"

"I like it. I like it a lot. I just don't want to - I mean, come on, you're being really cool, but..." He stared down at Puck helplessly. "Nobody wants that."

"I do," Puck said. "Unless you want to come somewhere else. Come on, man, I'm losing my momentum. That was hot." He leaned back in, licking his way down Sam's cock, making him gasp and thrust forward.

"Fuck," Sam muttered, "fuck, that's... _fuck."_ He put out a hand and rested it on Puck's head, gently at first, then tugging with more insistence. "Oh god, that feels so - I'm gonna come, right now -"

Puck thought Sam might pull away again at the last minute, but he stayed with it, letting himself be surprisingly loud as he came. Puck was glad; cleanup was easier if he just swallowed, and they wouldn't have to get up and look for tissues right away, but mostly he just thought it was really fucking hot to look up and see Sam's awesome body, arching up and bucking into his mouth. He barely lasted thirty seconds more, himself, shooting off onto the floor next to the bed before crawling up to collapse beside him, chest heaving.

"You really never had a girl swallow?" he asked, resting his hand on Sam's chest. Sam had to have waxed there; there was no way he would have gotten a shave that smooth. Puck didn't bother trying to get rid of the hair on his body, and in all his years messing around with girls and guys, nobody had ever complained about it.

"I've never had a girl give me a blowjob," Sam admitted.

Puck sat up, grinning at him. "That was your first blowjob? Really?"

"Hey, fuck you." Sam's glare held no energy, and after a moment, he sighed. "Really."

"Well?" Puck tapped his chest. "How'd I do?"

"How'd you -" Sam laughed incredulously. "How do you _think_ you did?"

Sam was just as willing to be held afterwards as he had been the night before, and Puck felt more than a little smug as he slid his other arm underneath his head, being the big spoon. Guys weren't as soft as girls, but they were usually warmer, and Sam's muscles were totally awesome up close. He wasn't going to tell him that, but Puck felt a little in awe of Sam's body.

When they heard the front door open and slam shut, Sam struggled upright, reaching for his clothes with alarm, but Puck patted his shoulder. "It's just my sister Sarah. She won't tell anybody."

Sam watched as Puck got dressed. "You do this a lot? Fool around with... guys, in your room?"

"Not a lot," he said. "It's mostly in clubs, bars, bathrooms. Not a lot of guys coming over to my house."

"No, I guess not." Now Sam looked at the other bed. His cheeks were red. "Kind of convenient."

"Only if you want it to be," Puck said, turning away. He wasn't going to hold Sam's hand through his big gay crisis, but he wasn't going to be a creep, either. "I'm not into forcing anybody. You can just tell me, if you ever want to do it again."

Sarah was on the couch with a bag of pretzels, and when Puck came over and flopped down beside her, Sam joined them. "Sarah," he said, pointing, "Sam. Sam, Sarah."

Sam gave her a little wave. "Nice to meet you. So what are we watching?"

"Clone Troopers," Sarah said, switching the channel to Cartoon Network, and Sam immediately brightened. The two of them spent the next half hour fangirling about Star Wars, and even though Puck didn't know who the hell Asoka Tano was, he found himself grinning like an idiot through the whole thing.

Sam was polite to Puck's mom, and she made dinner for them, even though she was glaring at them through most of it. Sarah and Puck did the dishes quickly and left their mother to watch her own shows while they went to their rooms. Puck gave Sam the desk, sprawling on the bed with his guitar.

"Don't you have homework?" Sam asked, getting his math book out of his bag.

"Never do it," Puck replied.

Sam regarded him thoughtfully. "How's that working for you?"

"Stellar." He did a Bon Jovi run. "Lemme know when you're done. Then you can get your guitar out and and I can teach you the AC/DC solo from 'You Shook Me All Night Long.'"

Sam didn't question him again, and he finished his math quickly enough. Sam was a fast learner, picking up the pentatonic phrases with ease and having equal facility with the higher octaves on the neck. They played until Sarah thumped the wall, yelling, "Go the fuck to sleep."

Sam looked a little abashed, but Puck just thumped back, yelling, "Put on your fucking headphones." He smiled reassuringly at Sam. "S'okay. It's just our bedtime routine."

"Got it." Sam got undressed slowly, folding his jeans and climbing into his bed wearing his underwear and t-shirt. Then he rolled over onto his side, not saying anything more. Puck snapped the light off. Eventually, they all slept.

When Puck woke up in this middle of the night this time, Sam was already awake, sitting on the edge of his bed. He waited until Puck's eyes were open to touch his leg through the blanket.

"You said I should, uh, tell you," Sam whispered. "If I felt bad for any of it? And if I, like, wanted it again."

"Do you feel bad?"

"Not exactly," Sam told him. His hand was already moving the blanket aside. When Puck groped him, he found Sam had taken off his underwear and was already hard. "Would you mind sucking me again? I woke up thinking about it and... I can't stop."

They went to Sam's bed this time, Puck leaning over his prone form, using his hand to jerk Sam off into his mouth. He loved how loud Sam was, but he had to nudge him a couple times to get him to stop moaning. "My sister won't freak out, but she'll get annoyed if we wake her up, and my mom _would_ freak out."

"Okay," Sam gasped, "okay, yeah, sorry, just... don't stop?"

Sam wasn't just loud, he liked to _talk_. And Puck thought that was just about the hottest thing ever, besides Sam's lips. "That feels amazing, fuck, yeah, like that with your tongue, fuck... you really like doing this?"

Puck murmured some kind of enthusiastic affirmative. Sam spread his legs a little further, not objecting to Puck's fingers brushing the base of his cock and cupping his balls.

"You... want me to do this to you?"

Puck backed off, watching Sam with anticipation, the roiling, coursing desire already getting him hard again. "Yeah, I want it. But you don't have to."

Sam didn't look exactly enthusiastic about the idea, but Puck could see his own desire, driving him anyway. He knew what that felt like.

"C'mere," he said, sitting on the bed and pulling Sam into an awkward embrace. Sam fumbled a hand between them, but Puck took his hand away, letting their erections be. "Hey. This is awesome, what we're doing, but you've got to follow Puck's rule number one about sex."

"Okay," Sam said slowly. "What's rule number one?"

Puck turned his head and found Sam's ear with his lips, nibbling. He brushed Sam's nipple with his thumb. Puck waited until Sam's squirming turned into gasping, and then into _fuck yeahs_, before employing his teeth and nails.

"God," Sam whined.

Puck nodded. "Rule number one says... you have to really _want it._ Otherwise, don't bother." He shifted back off the bed, kneeling in front of Sam. "So, you let me know when you really _want_ to suck my cock. Like, you don't wake up dreaming about me doing it to you, you wake up dreaming about doing it to me. Okay?"

Sam was almost beyond words at this point, but he let Puck finish him off, muffling his groans with his forearm. As soon as he was done, he sank back down onto his bed, half asleep already, but had enough wherewithal to ask, "So what is it _you_ really want?"

_I already asked for it, and you turned me down._ But that was rude, even at three in the morning. Puck crawled in under the covers, arranging himself so that he was the little spoon. He could feel Sam's rapidly softening dick against his ass, and he ground back against it, pushing Sam's hand down to cup his balls. "Jerk me off. Both hands, like this."

He showed Sam how he liked it, and Sam's large, dexterous hands were clearly good at more than just playing guitar, because he picked up the technique right away. He didn't seem to mind the way Puck was rubbing back against him, either

"You're right," Sam told him thoughtfully, just after Puck came. "It's better when you really want it. That's a good rule." He wiped his hand on the sheet, which Puck wouldn't have done, but he wasn't going to argue in the middle of the night. "I kind of like you here in this bed."

That startled Puck, who was about ready to climb out and go back to his own. "Uh... okay?"

"Yeah." Sam's arms tightened around him, resting his head on Puck's shoulder. "Just... stay here, for a minute?"

That's how they fell asleep, and when the alarm woke Puck up at 6:30, he was a little surprised at just how comfortable it had been. Two people wedged into one single bed had never really appealed to him, but it wasn't so bad with Sam there.

"Mmmm," Sam sighed, an idle hand brushing up and down the center of Puck's body. Neither of them were hard, not after what they'd done just a couple hours ago, but he guessed if they stayed there much longer, they would be. It was tempting. He made himself sit up, extracting himself from Sam's arms. Sam was watching him.

"So... what is this?" he asked.

"Two guys fucking around?" Puck shrugged. "I'm not looking to make some kind of statement. I just want to get off."

It wasn't exactly true, but Sam nodded, accepting his words. They were both silent as they took turns in the bathroom and got ready for school. But Sam stopped him before they went out to the kitchen to get something to eat.

"I really liked that, what we did last night," he said. "I mean, yeah, the - the blowjob, that was amazing. And the kissing. And the sleeping together. I liked that a lot."

It was a little more real than Puck knew what to do with. "Yeah, okay," he agreed, trying to brush past Sam into the hallway, but Sam took his shoulder again, looking into his face with that serious, intense expression.

"I just wanted to say thanks." He leaned down, closing the few inches he had on Puck, until their lips met, soft and slow. It wasn't a passionate kiss. It was - sweet. Puck found himself a little stunned in the aftermath.

"No problem," he managed. "We should... get going."

After that, Sam was back to being casual and friendly. He didn't make any move to kiss Puck goodbye or anything like that, which was good because Puck thought he might have completely freaked out if Sam had. When they got to school, he hopped out of Puck's truck, waving, and headed off to his first class. When he saw Puck in the hall, he nodded at him, but that was all.

Puck found himself under the bleachers again after lunch, sans joint, without even a cigarette, just sitting down there, trying to put everything into a picture that made sense. He had a guy to mess around with at his house, a hot guy at that, and one who didn't seem to mind trying out some new stuff with him. Sure, Sam might be straight, or mostly straight, but he wasn't letting that get in the way of some quality fooling around, and Puck appreciated that. And he did appear to want it.

It wasn't until Glee, when Sam was standing next to Mercedes, laughing with her, touching her arm, that Puck had to admit he'd fucked up a little bit. He'd set himself up to get everything he wanted, and here he was, feeling stupidly jealous about - what?

Quinn moved in to stand next to him on the other side, watching him with an obnoxiously knowing smile. He scowled at her.

"You don't know shit about me," he whispered. She actually laughed.

"How about you let me take you to the Lima Bean after school," she whispered back, "and you can fill me in on exactly what I don't know? And you can help me plan the party."

"What party?"

"The welcome-back one we're going to throw for Sam."


End file.
